Thoughts and Clairs
by Rosegolden394
Summary: My idea for the Snapeloveposts prompt on tumblr: A student can hear her Professor's thoughts, he finds out.
1. Chapter 1

The Gryffindor was quiet. She never felt she had good enough reason to talk much. That, and she didn't really have anyone to talk to, even if she'd had the inclination.

Alice was in her seventh year, and you might assume at this stage she'd have more friends than she did, but she didn't.

The girls that shared her dorm never wanted much to do with her, and it wasn't as if the Muggle born girl had anywhere else to meet magical friends.

There had been that girl a year ahead of her, who had been kind to her. She'd taken the time to chat her up, sit with her at lunch sometimes, and even let her tag along on a few trips to Zonko's during Hogsmeade weekends. She was popular, with a bubbly, loud personality, not to mention bubblegum pink hair, so all together she couldn't have been more the opposite of Alice. But she had graduated last year, gone off to Auror training, and Alice hadn't been brave enough to ask if she could write to her.

Professor McGonagall invited her to her office for tea about once a month, and Alice had plenty of conversations with Madam Pince while in the library, but other than that, save a few friendly ghosts, she kept to herself.

And that Monday Alice sat alone, as she would on any other day, at the workbench inside her Potions classroom. Today might have been like any other day, except that it was the first day of a new school year, and, except, that it was her seventeenth birthday.

At the present moment, she felt a little fuzzy, her head still aching slightly. She'd woken with such a bad headache that she'd skipped breakfast in order to visit Madam Pomfrey for some relief. She had a feeling that the pounding in her head had been caused by the dreams that she'd had the previous night, although if she thought about it, she wasn't even sure that dreams could actually cause headaches. But these dreams had been strange. Very strange, indeed.

At first she had dreamt that she was swimming in a fizzy, lime green liquid. Where small, dark figures darted and flipped within the depths beneath her treading legs. As she soon discovered, when she looked above her, she was floating in the mixture of a gigantic cauldron, that was suspended in the middle of the black, star studded sky of deep space.

Then the cauldron tipped, and she was poured out onto the flagstone floor of the Hogwarts Entrance Hall; suddenly and inexplicably dry. Then, the doors to the Great Hall were opening in front of her, and she entered, seeing the space empty except for a simple wooden desk in the very center of the room.

There was someone sitting behind the desk, but they were only a hazy, grey smudge, almost like her eyes couldn't quite bring them into focus. As she looked around, she realized there were hundreds of neon signs, not currently turned on, covering every wall of the spacious room. They were shaped like rounded speech bubbles, all different sizes, and each with its own dangling, metal chain. They reminded Alice of the comic strips in her Grandfather's Sunday paper.

This struck her as very odd, of course, considering these were something she'd expect to find in the window of a Muggle pub, not anywhere near Hogwarts.

She walked toward the desk, curious to find out who its blurry occupant was. But as soon as she reached it, the chains of the signs were pulled by some invisible force, all within a fraction of a second of one another, snapping and clicking in a choir of echoing metal, until each was lit. Every color of the rainbow illuminated from the walls, the room now buzzing with the vibrating hum of electricity. Then all at once, the glowing colors from the lights zoomed toward Alice, beelining from all directions at great speed, and crashed right into her head. It was as if she could feel each individual color entering her brain, and she was knocked down onto her back from the force.

And then, she was awake, drenched in sweat with the worst headache she'd ever had. It was bad enough to make her nearly vomit into the small bin by her bed, but she managed to dress herself, and make it to the Infirmary before heading to the dungeons for the class she was currently sitting in.

She was nearly finished with her quiz on Common Poisons and Their Antidotes. The room was silent as Professor Snape casually paced the room, looking over shoulders to check on their work, with a warning of a raised eyebrow every now and then if students were whispering or messing about. For very brief moment, when he passed her desk, their eyes connected as he continued up the aisle. And then as he was walking away from her, Alice heard him utter an odd phrase.

"...much too thin."

She quickly looked up again, from where she had just began to write out the answer to the last question. But he was simply walking away from her, lazily scanning the parchment on each desk as he passed. No one else in her row had seemed to hear what he said.

Alice knew she was far from curvy, she might even use the word 'lanky' to describe herself, but 'much too thin'? She didn't think so.

The Professor returned to the front of the room, no expression on his face, nothing to indicate he was waiting for a response from anyone in particular.

Several thoughts were running through Alice's mind. Why would he say that? Did he even say it? She supposed it was possible she'd imagined it, she wasn't exactly feeling her best today.

She decided to try and forget about the occurrence, by putting her attention back to her quiz. It worked, until just a few minutes later, when from somewhere behind her she heard,

"...an illness over the summer, perhaps. ...Much too thin.."

She turned to see Professor Snape standing at the gargoyle basin near the back of the room, casually swiping his wand as several small jars rinsed themselves under the stream of water. He was again turned away from her, but this time she knew for certain that she'd heard something, and that it was him who'd said it.

"...being raised by that cretin, hmph. Undoubtedly he's been formed into quite the ungrateful brat..."

Whoever 'he' was, she didn't know. But at least she knew now that he wasn't talking about her.

Professor Snape, it seemed, was simply thinking out loud.

It was quite bewildering. Did he not realize he was doing it? Did she ever remember him doing this before? Should she say something?

She was still turned around in her seat, watching the cloak-clad back of him when he started speaking again. The last jar set itself down on the shelf and he turned, mid-sentence, to begin walking back to the front of the room.

And Alice was frozen in fear when she realized that she was definitely hearing him, but he was not speaking.

"...cannot believe how much he looks like Potter. ...exactly like him…"

His mouth wasn't moving, but she was hearing him. Very clearly.

"...he won't be here until Friday, and only one day a week. Double class, but only once. I can handle once a week."

She simply sat in there, in shock, until the bell rang out signalling the end of class. And then she scribbled something quickly so as not to leave her quiz unfinished.

The rest of the day she could think of little else. Was she truly hearing her Professor's thoughts? Was she the only one who could? It had seemed that way. And who was it that he had been talking, er, thinking about?

Alice was knew that 'Potter' was probably Harry Potter. The entire student body as well as the staff were buzzing about him at the moment. The Boy Who Lived, now eleven years old, had started classes at Hogwarts that very day. And whoever Snape was referring to, the one who was much too thin and possibly sick, apparently looked just like him.

Alice also put together that first years were the only ones who had Potions once a week on Fridays, as a double class. But Professor Snape had seemed almost nervous about being around this person, and why on earth would any student, not to mention a first year for Merlin's sake, make Professor Snape nervous?

Over the next several weeks, Alice watched her professor a little more closely. She had decided to do a bit of experimenting, to see exactly how this, thing, worked. Eventually, she found that she could only hear his thoughts when he was near, and only if they shared eye contact first, however brief.

She tried to hear him they were at opposite ends of his classroom, and it worked. She tried hearing him without looking into his eyes first, that didn't work. She listened to him when she was in the Great Hall, sitting nearest to where Snape was eating at the High Table, and then she slowly walked toward the doors… his thoughts fading as she got further away, and finally disappearing altogether about ten steps into the Entrance Hall. But just before they did, as she stood on the other side of the double doors, she noted she could still hear him, even though she couldn't currently see him.

Once, he scolded her while out on his nightly rounds. She was studying alone in a quiet hallway, books and parchment strewn all over the floor, and had lost track of time.

"There are only two minutes remaining until curfew, do you really think you will have this mess cleaned up and be back in your common room before then?"

As he was saying this, he seemed to be reciting parts of a poem in his head. It was very strange to hear his speaking voice and, what she was now referring to as his 'mind's voice', simultaneously. As well as very difficult to concentrate enough to pay attention to both.

"...One among us seven will let you move ahead, Another will transport the drinker back instead,"

No, Alice realized, it wasn't just a poem, it had a tune to it. He was... singing.

"...Two among our number hold only nettle-wine, Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line."

"Go on, before I tell Filch I've got another student to hand over for detention."

Apparently, even Severus Snape could get a silly song stuck in his head.

She also discovered that her ability to hear him would last for about four to five hours, before they would need to make eye contact again, even if they went 'out of range' of each other in the interim.

This was discovered because once he looked at her when he called on her in class in the morning, after which she could hear him thinking. Then later, after she'd been across the school and back again, Alice was passing through the East Wing on her way to Herbology, and she heard his voice, his mind's voice, before she saw him.

"...These damn bandages.. Of course its bloody bite had be cursed. Couldn't be healed with a simple...Ouch! And it's bleeding again, just BRILLIANT."

It took her very much by surprise, as she hadn't been expecting to hear him in that moment, in that corridor, far from the dungeons. She was already a bit on edge.

There had been a Troll, you see, the week before, _inside_ the castle. It had been quickly captured and removed, Thank Merlin, but there was an air of caution still lingering about. Most students weren't admitting they were still scared or nervous, but everyone was walking to and from classes in groups, and ending up in their common rooms well before curfew.

"...I'm lucky it was only my leg and not my bollocks. No, Quirrell is lucky it wasn't my bollocks.. And Albus, that damned old codger, I told him to do something about the idiot before something like this- now where's my damn dittany… there it is."

She then rounded a corner to see Professor Snape leaning against a stone statue of an angry looking wizard. He was rolling his sock back up, then he stood, allowing his pant leg to drop back down, and put a small bottle into the folds of his robes. Alice, in her startled state, had apparently stopped walking, and was staring at him.

"Is there something you need assistance with, Miss Bainbridge?"

"Oh... No, sir."

"Then are you capable of walking or do I need to alert Madame Pomfrey of a student struck dumb in the middle of an empty corridor?"

"Yes- I mean, no. Sorry sir."

Over the next few months, she began to notice that Professor Snape was looking a little worn out. He seemed tired, a bit more sullen, if that was even possible. And by mid-February, it was an especially tough time to be a student on his bad side. He took twenty-five points away from his own house just because Oscar Finley scared a Hufflepuff girl with a charmed paper frog.

It was then Alice decided to really listen in, to try to see if she could figure out what was troubling the teacher. Even though, admittedly, she didn't know what she could possibly do with the information.

She quickly realized that apart from Potions class, there weren't actually many reasons for a Gryffindor student to be in close proximity to the Slytherin Head. But an opportunity presented itself about a week later, a few days after the Gryffindor-Slytherin quidditch match.

The extra credit that Snape had posted was a two hour session of helping prepare ingredients for the Draught of Peace. It included grinding Moonstone into powder, very tedious work, and making Hellebore Syrup, a flower that emitted an especially unpleasant odor when boiled. So, Alice signed up, determined to find out what was causing such distress for her teacher.

And it might have worked, her little plan, had she not made a mistake.

It was Thursday evening after dinner that she found herself in the dungeon classroom with her sleeves rolled up and her face over a steaming cauldron. There was also a pair of Ravenclaw boys in the room, (they'd practically shoved her out of the way to get to the Moonstones first) who had had signed up as well. As she was setting up her supplies, Alice pretended to have forgotten the exact amount of water needed, to get Professor Snape to look directly at her. And then after that, she began her work of making two gallons of Hellebore Syrup.

Watching over her four simmering cauldrons a bit distractedly, she listened to his mind.

"...Shit. Did I remember to set the stasis charm on the PepperUp? ...No, that's right, I did."

He didn't seem to be thinking about anything in particular tonight, but she kept listening anyway.

"...I knew the forest would rattle him. It was quite amusing seeing him jump out of his skin over a damn bowtruckle."

When the two hours were nearly up, she carefully funneled the reduction into thick glass jars, sealed them, and sat down to make the labels. The other boys had just been excused, having finished powdering their Moonstone and putting the small containers into the small supply closet.

With only the two of them left in the room, Alice watched the Professor out of the corner of her eye. He sat down at his desk and leaned back in his chair, staring off into the room, at nothing in particular.

"...Christ, I could sleep. Maybe I'll tell the old man I'll come to his office tomorrow night instead. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Tell him I'll come when I'm good and ready."

She placed the labels on the jars with a sticking charm and then one at a time carried them to their proper place in the cupboard. Then she gathered her quills and capped her ink bottle, paying more attention to Snape's thoughts than what she was doing.

"...maybe, one of those water things, she had one in her room. That thing used to help me sleep. Now what was it called…"

"...Liquid light... No, Lava Light…"

"Lava Lamp." The words were out of Alice's mouth before she realized what she'd done.

Snape's head snapped toward her, and on his face was shock, confusion, horror. And fear. For some reason, it was that one that scared her the most.

He didn't move for what seemed like an excruciatingly long time. Neither did Alice, she didn't dare. And then, moving much faster than she thought him capable of, he was out of his chair and around the desk, a spell was thrown from his wand toward the classroom door, she wasn't sure which, and he was suddenly towering over her, his face only inches from her own.

"Make sure that the next words you speak are chosen carefully, do you understand?"

Alice, swallowed. And nodded.

"Explain yourself. Now."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snoop, I was just-"

"Snoop? SNOOP?"

"Well, yeah I-"

"What did you do, Bainbridge? Tell me, right now, exactly what you did."

"I didn't do anything! Not really, I can just, hear you. When you think."

Snape face fell, he looked like he'd just been told someone had died. He backed up a little, like she might have something that was contagious.

"How? How is that possible?"

"I don't know, I don't know how it-"

"How long? Tell me how long have you've had the ability to hear my thoughts inside my head, Miss

Bainbridge," Snape demanded, his voice raising again and stepping back toward her.

"Um, since the first day of class."

"SEVEN YEARS?"

"No! No, the first day of this year, just this year."

"Does anyone know about this? Anyone at all?"

"No, no one."

He wiped a few strands of hair off of his forehead and breathed deeply.

"Sit down. You will answer each one of my questions and you will answer them honestly. If I feel you are not being truthful or giving incomplete answers I will resort to methods other than just simply asking. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The next hour in that classroom was intense. Professor Snape interrogated her about everything and she told him everything, About how she'd discovered they had to make eye contact first, and then it would last a few hours until they looked at each other again. About how far apart they could physically be until she couldn't hear him anymore.

He would repeat it all back to her, asking her if he had everything exactly right, and then have her tell him everything again. After a few rounds of this, Alice realized that when he would repeat it back, he would change a small detail or two, to see if she would correct him, if he would catch her in a lie.

She didn't lie, of course. She wouldn't have been capable of it if she tried.

He also had her go over everything she did the morning that it started in painstaking detail, again and again and again.

Throughout these conversations, Snape seemed to fluctuate between completely irate to composed, to terrified, and back again. It was exhausting just to watch.

"I'm going to send you back to your dorm now," Snape said, finally. "But I need to make this very plain to you. We are not done figuring out what to do about this, I will let you know in the next few days when we will meet to continue this discussion. You will not speak a word of this to anyone. Not a soul. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Now go."

Alice stood on shaky legs, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked to the door. Right before he reached it, Snape said, "And Miss Bainbridge, you will stay out of my head in the meantime."

It was an unambiguous command. One that she would most definitely abide by.


	2. Part 2

Alice had become used to covertly observing Professor Snape, but it was quite something else the next morning when it was he who was side-eyeing her throughout the entirety of breakfast.

She tried to avoid meeting his eyes, but when you can feel yourself being stared at, especially that of the dagger variety, it's very hard to simply ignore. And because of that, Alice found her gaze being pulled toward the High Table several times during her meal. Now, you could look at it as being just the right or the wrong moment, but either way, just as she finished her meal and again risked looking up, their eyes met.

The effect was immediate, and Alice heard the tail end of his current train of thought.

"...she better not be, damn it. I told her..."

Next moment, as he realized that yes, she was doing what she better not be, she heard,

 _"Miss Bainbridge, I'll warn you once more not to listen to my thoughts without explicit permission to do so. If I catch you again you will be very sorry."_

It was the first time that he had spoken directly to her through his mind. It didn't feel like merely eavesdropping anymore… it felt, to Alice, like some sort of encounter. This, in addition to the fact that Severus Snape's intimidation factor wasn't hampered in the slightest despite him sitting at least twenty yards away, had Alice putting down her pumpkin juice and nearly running out of the Great Hall.

She was terrified of being caught again, and spent the next several days keeping her eyes down at her feet as much as possible to avoid accidentally making eye contact with him. And had bumped into several students, teachers and one extremely miffed suit of armor. If her classmates didn't already think her extremely odd, they certainly did now. Alice felt incredibly anxious at the thought of being questioned by Snape again, but nearly felt relief when on Monday morning, the communication finally came.

Professor Snape handed back their graded assignments from the week before and there was a piece of folded parchment placed between the pages of Alice's.

"Remedial Potions extra lessons - Professor Snape's office at 7pm this evening. Do not be late."

At six fifty-five, as Alice walked down the stone stairs from the Entrance Hall and then down the narrow hall that led to Professor Snape's office, she recalled the two other times that she'd been in his office previously.

The first had been in her second year. Professor McGonagall retrieved Alice from the Gryffindor common room one Saturday afternoon and led her down to his office, where they found Snape and a sheepish-looking Slytherin girl called Blythe Baddox. She was apparently being reprimanded for several antics that Snape had just found out about, and being made to apologize.

One of the things she had confessed to was spitting Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in between the pages of Alice's stack of notes on Flobberworm Mucus the week before, and Snape had asked Alice if this was in fact true and if so, why hadn't she informed him at the time? Alice had been painfully shy back then, but besides that, had never seen the point in telling a teacher every time a classmate did something nasty to her. He had made her promise to report any future incidents, and then had her stand there awkwardly as Blythe quietly said she was sorry.

The second instance, was the time in her fifth year when she had let Professor Snape know that the classroom supply closet was out of Beetle Eyes, and Snape, having both arms elbow deep in purple sludge at the time, (Erin Moynahan had somehow glued a hand to the bottom of her cauldron and he was having to hurry to save her fingers) had sent her to retrieve another box from the cupboard in his office.

The room had all of the odd, contradictory traits that the typical dungeon does. Damp yet dusty, cramped yet cavernous, candle-lit yet dark. But there was something a bit extra in this particular room of the castle. It had a domed ceiling with ancient words etched in Latin over the arches. There were leather trunks, seven or eight of them, in corners and pushed against walls. It was completely filled with books, hundreds of them, expertly organized on dozens of shelves, and even more shelves holding jars and vials and and small wooden boxes, each of the containers carefully labeled.

The most interesting part of Professor Snape's office, and something Alice remembered noticing that second time she had been there, were the experiments (she could think of no other word to describe it) that he seemed to have going.

There were two long work benches near one corner, and they were covered with stacks of loose parchment, eye droppers, tongs, magnifying glasses, stirring rods, measuring cups... There were cauldrons simmering steadily, and beakers with makeshift bunsen burners, bewitched with flame, burning underneath them. Alice didn't have an especially high interest in experimental Potions, but she would have absolutely loved to learn of all the research and development that was obviously going on down there.

Now, when she entered his office on this evening, it seemed that most things were put away and in their place. But there were a few small set ups throughout the room, and still parchment and quills spread out over table tops.

She had stepped inside after knocking and being told to enter. Professor Snape was standing, tall and stiff as usual, and he nodded to a chair in front of his desk.

"Sit down, Bainbridge."

It was an old, wooden chair, warped with time and without embellishment or cushion, and Alice quickly slid into it.

"We're going to do some experimenting tonight, with your little party trick. But first, I'm going to ask you to demonstrate it for Professor Dumbledore."

"How are you this evening, Miss Bainbridge?"

Alice jumped at the voice that came from behind her. Professor Dumbledore was sitting in a chair in a shadowed corner. She hadn't even noticed anyone else had been in the room.

"Fine, thanks." She managed to respond.

"It seems our Headmaster is having trouble comprehending the... gift with which you have been so blessed." Snape said. And he spoke the words with such dripping sarcasm that Alice thought that he _must_ hate her.

"Because of this," he continued, "Professor Dumbledore has chosen a phrase, and told it to me just minutes ago. So, we know there's no way I could have relayed it to you anytime before this moment. I want you to see if you can listen to my thoughts and find out what it is. Do you understand?"

Alice shifted nervously on the uncomfortable seat.

"Yes, Professor."

"Go ahead." He folded his arms across his chest and looked indignantly at her.

She glanced at Professor Dumbledore once more. He looked expectant, but unhurried, and was smiling gently.

Alice felt extremely awkward, and was suddenly sweating in the freezing cold chamber. She willed herself to keep calm, looked back at Snape and listened, and what she heard made her wonder if they could actually be teasing her.

"You... want me to say it outloud?" she asked timidly.

"Unless you believe either I or Professor Dumbledore has inexplicably developed the ability to hear _your_ thoughts, then yes, Miss Bainbridge. Please do."

Sitting there with the two men staring at her, she could now add 'foolish' to 'awkward' on the list of things she was feeling. But there was nothing for it, and she cleared her throat and said dutifully,

"Behind every great knitter, is a large pile of yarn."

Dumbledore snickered. Snape looked increasingly angry and shot a look toward the old wizard.

"I'm so glad you can find ways of enjoying yourself in the middle of this most serious matter Albus. Have you been adequately entertained, or would you like to choose another phrase for demonstration?"

 _"...you bloody fucking bellend!"_

Alice nearly gasped aloud when she heard the portion of the sentence that Snape said only in his head. She knew Professor Dumbledore couldn't have heard it, but still she found herself looking back at him for some sort of reaction. She couldn't imagine _ever_ speaking to the Headmaster that way.

But he only sat there, serenely calm, and then addressed Alice.

"Miss Bainbridge, do you think you could try and read my thoughts?

"I haven't heard anything from anyone else, Sir. Only Professor Snape."

"Yes, as he has said. But could you... try and humor me, perhaps? Give it a go?"

Alice picked nervously at a painful hangnail on her thumb.

"Um, alright." She looked up at her Headmaster.

If it were possible to hear the sound of twinkling within an eye then she might have heard that, but there was only silence.

"Nothing, sir."

"Well, thank you anyway for indulging me. Excuse my interruption, Severus. Please, continue."

Professor Snape had returned to his chair and was sitting with his elbows on the desk and his fingers steepled under his chin. He was looking at Alice with distrust, possibly suspicion.

"I'm going to try something different, Miss Bainbridge. I'm going to attempt to block you from listening to my thoughts, and I want you to tell me if you are still able to hear them." Snape shared a quick, knowing glance with Dumbledore. "Starting now."

Alice obeyed, and listened. It did seem different this time, more difficult to sort out. It was similar to when she was hearing his thoughts at the same that he was actually speaking.

Alice closed her eyes and concentrated on his mind's voice. There was a lot more to this one, and she was glad he was repeating it back to back, so she'd be able to remember it all. Once she thought she had, she opened her eyes and said, "Moly is a black-stemmed herb that can be eaten to counteract enchantments."

Professor Snape looked relieved for the first time in months. Pleased, even. He said to Professor Dumbledore, "Thankfully, it seems that occluding-"

"I heard something else as well."

Alice had really, really hated to interrupt him but she hadn't been finished saying what she heard. And she was too terrified to be anything but honest with either of the men in the room.

Snape widened his eyes at her, the small respite from his constant state of irritation had lapsed. Alice continued while she had the nerve.

"That bit was quiet, muffled. But the other part I heard much louder and clearer."

"And what was that Bainbridge?" Snape asked through clenched teeth.

"It was, um, 'The root was black, while the flower was as white as milk; the Gods call it Moly, and, mortal men… cannot… cannot uproot it, but the Gods can do whatever they like.'"

A muscle twitched in Snape's jaw as he stared at the girl in front of him with unquestionable hostility. Alice could only stare back, sitting stock-still under his gaze and wishing someone would hurry up and say something.

On a table a few feet behind Snape, a flame warming a beaker of yellow liquid started to grow larger, brighter... and the solution above it began to boil.

"Severus." said Dumbledore calmly.

The Headmaster's voice seemed to do as intended, and Professor Snape straightened his back and quietly inhaled, slowly and deeply. The flame behind him ebbed, and was again a small, steady flicker.

"There's nothing unusual about thinking the words of... Homer, was it, when referencing the Moly plant, is there? I've read his works myself, many years ago, of course." Professor Dumbledore had put on a false, jovial tone. "Now, if you don't mind, Severus. I'll leave you two to it. Miss Bainbridge, we'll see if we can't get to the bottom of this mystifying little conundrum. Until we do, these, lessons, may have to continue... if you don't mind them, of course."

Alice did mind, in fact it was everything she could do to keep herself from running from the room and hiding under her covers, but she knew there was no way she could refuse them.

"I don't mind, Professor Dumbledore."

"Well, then, make sure to relay to me how the experiments go, Severus. Good evening, Miss Bainbridge."

"Good evening sir."

When the quiet **swoosh** of Dumbledore's purple robes exited the room and the office door closed again, Snape stood from his chair and perched himself at a spot just to the right of his desk.

"I'm not sure why I'm asking, as you don't seem troubled to ask before invading mine, but do I have permission to look into your mind, Miss Bainbridge?"

It was an obviously terrifying thought. "Look... into my mind?"

"As a seventh year, you have learned of the techniques of Legilimency, have you not?"

"Oh. Yes sir, I have."

"Then you know what I mean when I say 'look into your mind.' And I'm asking for your consent to do so because, even I, am capable of behaving with a modicum of basic courtesy."

His annoyance was again obvious and Alice swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

"I need a firm yes, Miss Bainbridge."

"Yes, you have my permission.'

"I want you to think back on each time that you've read my thoughts, starting with the very first time that it happened. Concentrate on nothing else, and keep your eyes open and on me. Are you ready?"

Alice again shifted in her seat. She didn't think she had ever sat on anything more uncomfortable.

"Yes."

The first thing that happened was she noticed the almost indistinguishable action of Snape's pupils dilating. And the next was that her most current state of emotions came to the front of her mind.

Now, it was very apparent to Alice that she wasn't just nervous, she was scared. Hearing someone else's thoughts scared her, this room scared her, her own teacher scared her. She also seemed to take stock of her physical state as well. Her bum was feeling sore from the damned chair, her hands were clammy, her underarms sweating, and the tip of her nose was cold from the temperature of the room.

Then, Alice remembered what she was supposed to be remembering, and suddenly she was sitting in class, seeing Professor Snape walk by her desk while mentioning the person who was sickly and small, and looked like Harry Potter. And then he was at the gargoyle basin, and she felt the shock of realization all over again when he turned around, his mouth unmoving. It hit her then, not in the memory, but now, sitting in Professor Snape's dungeon office, that that moment had changed her life. She could hardly remember what it was like not hearing his thoughts, not testing distances and timing, not worrying if she was going to be caught doing it.

That memory ended, and she was in the Great Hall, listening to him complain to himself one morning about the quality of the apple porridge. And again the memory changed and he was scolding her in the hallway and singing that odd song in his head. It felt as if Snape was flipping through her memories like they were cards on a giant Rolodex. And that it was going too fast.

Now, she was catching sight of him and his shockingly pale and bleeding leg. And then listening to him talk about a sleep over at a friend's house who owned a lava lamp. After that, instead of what should have been the next memory, the one where he found her out, she was watching herself being poured out onto the flagstones from the giant cauldron in space, entering the Great Hall and seeing the ghostly figure, and the lights from the hundreds of neon signs were blasting into her head and knocking her on the ground. She was feeling the pain of that awful migraine all over again when, blessedly, the visions stopped and her mind went blank.

Alice opened her eyes, which she'd apparently closed at some point, and she saw her Professor, who was leaning over her as she lay on his office floor.

He was angry, or possibly, worried. She had been learning recently that for him, those two emotions came with nearly identical facial expressions.

"Bainbridge, can you sit up?"

She began to lift her head when she noticed that Snape's hand was underneath it. Her face flushed warm with embarrassment realizing that not only was she down on the floor with no memory of how she got there, but that he'd apparently had to save her head from cracking against it. Snape seemed uncomfortable as well, and when she slowly sat up he pulled his hand out from under her. He didn't yank her up by her arm like she almost imagined he might, or even touch her at all as she stood, but just sort of... closely hovered as she got back into the chair.

"What happened?" Alice asked hesitantly. Snape resumed the position next to his desk.

"It seems the Legilimency was too much for you. I've seen it cause unconsciousness before, but only in extreme situations. And _that_ was only after at least four hours of continuous, intense…"

Snape looked at his student as she stared down at her lap and rubbed the elbow which had hit the floor before he'd reached her. He didn't finish his sentence.

"In any case," Snape continued in a smoother tone. "We will conclude for today. You should stop by the infirmary on your way back to your common room so Madame Pomfrey can check-"

"No, No, I'm fine. Really. I'll go straight to my room. Please. I'm just, very tired."

He narrowed his eyes at her, which Alice didn't see because she still did not look up. The room was quiet for what felt to Alice like an exceedingly long time.

"Very well. But if you feel faint or ill in any way you will go to the Infirmary, no matter what time of the night it is. We'll continue this later. I have questions regarding what I saw when reviewing your memories that you'll need to answer."


End file.
